


Where the Heart Is

by ScribeOfRhapsody



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Episode Prompto but with Ignis, Fate Swap, Gen, HighSpecs, Hurt/Comfort, MT Ignis Scientia, Role Reversal, Writing Prompt, not romance focused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 01:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeOfRhapsody/pseuds/ScribeOfRhapsody
Summary: Ignis was not a naive child. He’d figured out he was adopted well before he was told. If differing looks wasn’t enough to clue him in, then the code mark on his wrist certainly was.The code itself was a source of great curiosity for him. He’d been told to always keep it covered, but late at night he’d toss his gloves aside and study it. None of the few people who knew about it would tell him anything.All he was allowed to know was that he wasn’t from Lucis, but to never tell anyone that. Not even the Prince, after Ignis had been deemed fit to become his Advisor.





	Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> Hey-o! Wrote this little fate/role swap for my Discord group's monthly writing challenge. Enjoy!

Ignis was not a naive child. He’d figured out he was adopted well before he was told. If differing looks wasn’t enough to clue him in, then the code mark on his wrist certainly was.

 

The code itself was a source of great curiosity for him. He’d been told to always keep it covered, but late at night he’d toss his gloves aside and study it. None of the few people who knew about it would tell him anything.

 

All he was allowed to know was that he wasn’t from Lucis, but to never tell anyone that. Not even the Prince, after Ignis had been deemed fit to become his Advisor.

 

He was good at keeping secrets. That was a key part of what he’d sworn to do. He was fine with it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to know.

 

The frustration was agonizing. He thirsted for knowledge and had the best libraries in the world at his fingertips, yet his own past was denied to him. Denied by the King himself, even after Ignis had turned eighteen.

 

“ _You have a bright future ahead, dear boy. Do not look to the past._ ”

 

And so he attempted to do so. But he couldn’t prevent his mind from filling in more details as the years passed.

 

He had been meant to be a soldier of some sort. He was positive of that. It was the only way his barcode made sense. Not that he didn’t believe Niflheim wasn’t cruel enough to needle a code into civilians, but he’d done his research. The average person from Niflheim did not have a code on their wrist, even in Gralea. He was… special. In a way that no one ever wanted to be.

 

And his birth parents? He was beyond happy with his childhood and living circumstances, but it was impossible not to wonder. Were they a party to whatever program planted his code? Or were they unwilling subjects that could do nothing about it? Emotion told him to hope for one. Logic told him it was likely the other.

 

King Regis was right, though. He _had_ a bright future. Despite his origins, he was still allowed his position – a position he’d worked himself half to death for.

 

 _This_ was his life, and he would live it.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis wasn’t sure how it was possible to think about something so much and so little at the same time. Since the news of Insomnia’s fall, the mysteries of his past had crawled their way back into the imaginative part of his mind, lurking there stronger than ever before. And yet he was too busy to linger on them for any great amount of time. There was so much to do – fixing food, scheduling their travels to avoid night driving, watching out for the others’ heath, keeping curatives in their stock, keeping the ingredients he needed in stock… By the Astrals, the list went on. He didn’t have _time_ to dwell on himself. So he didn’t. Once more, he ignored that part of him.

 

Until the night in Malmalam Thicket. It was a stupid error on his part, but it had been a bloody and tiring day. Like normal, he let the others turn in and then began to wash their dinner dishes. Iris had offered to help, but he’d waved her off. He treasured these small moments of solitude.

 

Getting his gloves off was harder than normal due to the stream water they had been dunked in throughout the fights they’d encountered, and the warm dishwater felt wonderful, chasing away the chill that had been nipping at the tips of his fingers. It felt so nice to let his hands be free at these times.

 

Perhaps it was the nearby running water, or perhaps it was mere exhaustion, but whatever the case, he hadn’t heard Prompto exiting the tent until it was too late.

 

“Dude, are you seriously still up?”

 

Panic flaring, Ignis jammed his right hand into the soapy water, forgetting in that instant that he’d already dropped the steak knives in. He hissed as pain shot from his knuckles up his entire arm, though the initial sharpness of it was soon replaced by a burn as the soapy water made contact with the open wound. Still, he kept the hand submerged, those blasted lines on his skin hidden beneath the bubbles.

 

“Whoa! Sorry – did I startle you?” Prompto bounced up to his side.

 

“You’re fine.” Ignis tried to keep his voice even. “I thought you’d retired for the night?”

 

Prompto scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “All this running water around… I, uh, kind of had to pee. But do you need any help with th– _holy crap, Ignis!_ ”

 

_Bloody hell._

 

Evidently, Prompto had noticed that the water was changing colors.

 

Before Ignis could get a word in, Prompto had grabbed his arm and yanked it out of the washing bin to inspect it.

 

“What did you _do?_ Hold on, I got a potion here!”

 

“It’s nothing!” Ignis yanked back his hand, clutching his wrist. Drat. He was trapped. He had to grab his wrist to keep his code hidden, but that left his wound completely visible.

 

“Iggy!” Prompto said in horror, eyes locked onto the still gushing driblets of red that were spreading across both Ignis’ arms. “Geez, what is the deal with you? Here!” He pulled a potion from his pocket.

 

Ignis looked at the potion, wanting to accept it, but… that would mean releasing his wrist. Not an option.

 

Prompto scowled as he stepped forwards and broke the potion over Ignis’ hand, healing it up.

 

“Thank you,” Ignis muttered.

 

Prompto gave him a weird look. “You know… this is pretty extreme for a case of tattoo regret…”

 

Ignis’ heart skipped a beat. Prompto already knew. But… this was Prompto. He didn’t know what it meant. He couldn’t.

 

“Seriously, dude,” Prompto continued. “I’ve only gotten a few glances here and there, but like… it can’t be _that_ bad.”

 

Photographer’s eye. Perhaps that was it. “Do Noct and Gladio know?”

 

Prompto shrugged. “I dunno. I never brought it up. Seemed like you didn’t want people to know about it.”

 

Bless this boy. He was nosey and eager, but he did know when to let some things go. At least… usually. What if curiosity got the better of him now and he decided to ask Noct?

 

Ignis locked gazes with his friend. “Prompto, I need you to swear to me that you won’t mention this to the others.”

 

Prompto frowned. “What–”

 

“ _Promise me,_ Prompto!”

 

Prompto jumped. “Geez, okay! Okay… I won’t say anything.”

 

Ignis’ shoulders slumped slightly. “Thank you…”

 

“Yeah… sure…”

 

It didn’t escape Ignis’ notice how Prompto would give his wrist a look every time he saw him adjust his gloves. It made Ignis’ heart speed up a bit every time, but at least Prompto kept his promise, no matter how much Ignis could see that he wanted to broach the topic again.

 

Prompto wouldn’t get the details, and no one else could know. _Ever._

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis hated Ardyn, that much he knew from their first encounter. Him turning out to be the Chancellor of Niflheim did nothing but deepen that hatred. Not only was he a very possible threat to Noct and the others, but he kept sending Ignis these knowing looks that made his skin crawl.

 

Those strange yellow eyes seemed to see right into him. He wasn’t overanalyzing. There were just too many instances that couldn’t be explained away. Ardyn was definitely keeping an extra eye on him – that much had been clear since the night at the caravan, when the Chancellor had hovered just a little too close to him. Actually, _leered_ might have been a more appropriate word.

 

“Oh, do loosen up a bit, dear boy. Don’t be so… _robotic_.”

 

Those bloody eyes that twinkled like they knew a secret. Ignis could have sworn his code started itching every time he was under that gaze.

 

No. That last bit was in his imagination, he knew, but the rest… Ardyn was particularly interested in him for some reason, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to know what that reason was.

 

* * *

 

 

Altissia. The once beautiful city had turned into hell, both with its chaos and for him emotionally. Somehow – by some freak accident of circumstance – his gloves had been lost. It was probably best that those same circumstances led to him being separated from Gladio and Prompto, but that still didn’t feel like a comfort. There was no comfort in this place.

 

Noctis was out of reach, likely in danger. Gladio and Prompto were elsewhere fighting in the city.

 

Noct needed him.

 

And so Ignis unbuttoned and rolled down the sleeves of his shirt before heading to the altar. He made it there. _They_ made it there – him and Ravus Nox Fleuret of all people. It was a much-needed alliance, albeit one that was short lived. It didn’t matter much in the end. Noct was alive, but Lunafreya was dead. A harsh price to accept. A harsh price that they barely even had time to accept before Ardyn was there and a rush of mechanical soldiers had them both incapacitated.

 

Ignis struggled against the force holding him down as the Chancellor paraded over to Noct and knelt down over him with a dagger in hand.

 

“Unhand him!” Ignis snarled.

 

The Chancellor only chuckled. “Such fire. Such loyalty. Not something one generally sees from one so… _empty_ …”

 

Ignis went rigid, his struggling vanishing in an instant.

 

Robotic. Empty. _MT_.

 

No…

 

He finally understood. He finally understood, and he wished he didn’t.

 

_Do not look to the past._

 

King Regis was right to keep this from him – right to encourage him not to seek it out.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Ardyn cooed in mock sympathy. “Didn’t you know?” He chuckled again. “Ahh, the sweet irony of life… A man who knows so much about everything except himself.”

 

Ignis would be forever grateful to Ravus for choosing that moment to break free and send Ardyn’s hat flying with the throw of a dagger.

 

Ardyn made a lazy signal to Ignis’ captors, and then there was a prick on the back of Ignis’ neck.

 

* * *

 

 

He was _freezing._ That was the first thing he realized upon waking.

 

A shiver rippled over him as he opened his eyes. He was surprised to find himself unrestrained in what didn’t even appear to be a cell. His teeth pressed together. More games. That had to be the case.

 

He shivered again. His clothes appeared to have dried, but with the oddly low temperature and his jacket and gloves still missing, the chill was biting at his exposed skin.

 

Forcing himself to his feet, he checked his surroundings – a sterile, almost lab-like room. What did Ardyn want him to see here? Why bring him to this place?

 

Documents were strewn about the room, but only two of them caught his eye. _Verstael Besithia._ He knew that name from reports, of course. It belonged to the leader of the MT project.

 

Ignis swallowed as he played a tape recorder he’d also procured. Ardyn revealing he held connections to the MTs himself and then finding these? That was no coincidence.

 

He waited after the tape ended, expecting Ardyn to show himself, but the Chancellor was still nowhere to be seen.

 

Very well, then. It wasn’t as though he had a lot of options.

 

He cautiously made his way to the room’s only door, reaching for the keypad lock to inspect it. Knowing Ardyn, he might actually have left it unlocked–

 

“ _Scanning production code._ ”

 

Ignis retracted his hand as though bitten, trying to calm the panic rising within him.

 

“ _Unit 09714919 confirmed. Warning: this unit has been compromised. Initiating retrieval of compromised unit._ ”

 

No. This might very well be another trick set up by the Chancellor. He would believe nothing so easily manipulatable.

 

But… the facts lined up. Civilians didn’t have codes. Normal military didn’t have codes. No one ever looked at an MT’s wrist. Why would they? But weren’t MT’s mechanical? Ignis had fought plenty of them. He’d seen how they moved – looked into their eyes, even. How could any part of them be _human?_

 

“She still remembers you, after all these years.”

 

Ignis whipped around, calling on his daggers. They didn’t come.

 

A chill colder than that of the room crashed through him. If his weapons were gone, then he wasn’t able to connect with Noct.

 

It couldn’t be. Ardyn couldn’t have stolen his life away while Ignis was unconscious.

 

_Please, Astrals, no._

 

“Where is Noct?”

 

“Oh, do relax. The boy is fine,” Ardyn said dismissively, waltzing closer and toying with daggers in his hands that looked… oddly familiar.

 

Ignis stood his ground. “And where are we?”

 

Ardyn held his hand over his heart in mock pain. “Oh, how quickly they forget… Why, your home sweet home, of course.”

 

Ignis clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into the palms of his hands without his gloves there.

 

There was a gleam in Ardyn’s eyes as he tossed one hand with a dagger still in it around carelessly. “Have I piqued your curiosity? You must have so many questions.” Ardyn closed the last of the distance between them, forcing the daggers flat against Ignis’ chest so that he took hold of them. “Seek the answers yourself – if you dare.”

 

And then the Chancellor walked past Ignis – where the door should have been – and was gone by the time Ignis turned around. More bloody tricks.

 

Ignis narrowed his eyes at the daggers Ardyn had left him. They weren’t his, but he _knew_ these daggers. Not something he observed in a store, no… The craftsmanship was too unique to belong to the hunters. Ignis had seen them in passing several times–

 

Nyx Ulric. The Glaive’s hero. These were his.

 

Ignis felt nausea creep up his throat at the implication. He didn’t want to use these, but he had little choice. Just like Ardyn had planned, no doubt.

 

Ignis took a breath, looking up at the now unlocked door. His chance to discover the truth about himself – the chance he’d waited on his entire life.

 

He wasn’t certain he wanted to know the rest of the truth after all. But… he had no choice. Forwards into this nightmare was his only way out of it.

 

* * *

 

 

This place was a bloody maze. Ignis scowled as he snuck up on what had to be the tenth patrol he’d encountered.

 

Ignis sank one dagger into its torso and dragged the other across the neck area. These soldiers may not have been human, but the strike areas seemed to be working all the same. He dropped the body off to the side, letting it dissolve as he walked on.

 

Now then, if he took a left up ahead in keeping with his current pattern, then there was no chance of his going in circles. Yes… this wasn’t somewhere he’d been before– 

 

He halted his gait, narrowing his eyes at the neatly folded pile of clothes that sat atop a barrel up ahead. It was no coincidence, those clothes and the temperature steadily dropping the further he went this direction. A “gift” from the Chancellor, no doubt. Still… warmer clothes were a resource he was in near dire need of at the moment, so he took the offering after checking the fabric over a few times.

 

The most disturbing thing was that these clothes were exactly like something he might pick out himself – a warm, yet form-fitted, calf-length black coat that allowed for easy movement and had a purple inner lining. And then there were the black gloves and boots that had a matching white fur trim. The black vest that was there looked nearly identical to one he’d actually had in his closet before they left the city.

 

Ignis moved ahead. Whatever lay in wait, at least he was now comfortable.

 

And then an icy gust of wind hit him as the door in front of him opened to reveal a snowy pathway. Ignis trudged on, following the path that unfortunately didn’t give him a chance to head away from the Imperial base. It was no more than a walkway with a guardrail that lessened the chances of Imperial forces falling off the sheer drop that sat on one side.

 

Ignis was almost relieved when he spotted another door that led back inside.

 

The room he entered was not like the hallways before. Ebony vending machines, comfortable benches, bookshelves… a break room for the human employees, perhaps. Whatever the case, Ignis was quite happy to see the Ebony. He’d passed several vending machines before, but it was hardly practical to have one hand constantly busy with a beverage. Now he had pockets that he could put to use.

 

Applying some of the few gil he had, Ignis added an Ebony to both of his larger pockets before cracking open a third one to sip on as he checked the rest of the room.

 

More audio recordings. Wonderful. Ignis assumed these would continue to follow Chief Besithia’s descent into madness.

 

“ _Research log: Year 734, Day 123. It seems my laboratory is not nearly as secure as I once believed. Some thief – likely a Lucian – made off with one of my experiments. Absconding with a single infant will do nothing to enlighten them of the grandeur of my research._ ”

 

A small gasp left Ignis’ lips. So that was how he’d reached Lucis. He’d been taken from Niflheim – from _here_.  

 

Why? And by whom?

 

He found another recorder on the other side of the room and pressed play faster than he cared to admit.

 

His wished he hadn’t. Oh, he wished he’d heeded Regis’ words.

 

“ _Research log: Year 723, Day 70. I pondered how I might find the necessary number of infants, and then it dawned on me: why not make them myself? If I clone them from my own genes, I can eliminate the pesky process of breeding them–_ ”

 

A cold dread filled Ignis’ stomach so quickly, he felt he might be sick. He jammed his finger onto the stop button of the recorder.

 

In all the times he’d wondered about his biological parents, he’d assumed that he had _parents_. He didn’t even have a mother, and his supposed father was… Chief Besithia. The monster that created monsters.

 

Ignis swallowed. He hadn’t even been born. He was a clone. Every MT they’d killed… was his own face underneath those masks?

 

Did he… even truly count as human?

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis hesitated, clenching his right hand as he spotted a panel by the strange round door ahead of him.

 

Well, no matter how much he didn’t like it, he hadn’t come this far to give up when he could easily keep going. He reluctantly tugged his sleeve up and away from his wrist, holding it up to the scanner.    

 

The door lazily opened, and he trudged forwards down the next, darker hallway.

 

The sight before him was not one he could have steeled himself for even if he’d been given a thousand years to do so. At first, it seemed as though the upcoming room was merely dimly lit and as dull as the others he’d passed.

 

That was not the case. That was far, _far_ from what the room truly held.

 

The tanks before him were as hypnotizing as they were terrifying. His own face – completely relaxed in a way that didn’t happen with living beings – lay behind at least several dozen cases. The only movement was that of the copies’ unkempt hair, floating freely around their faces in the fluid that they were submerged within.

 

Ignis forced himself to move, trying to blink away the horrifying images around him.

 

_Keep going…_

_Don’t look at them…_

 

He made it over to a staircase, noticing an abandoned report at its base. A _termination_ report.

 

Twenty-three clones. Discarded. Incinerated.

 

They meant absolutely nothing to the Empire.

 

Anger sparked within Ignis as he continued up the stairs. What gave these scientists the right to toy with life like a lot of uncompassionate gods? Besithia was a twisted maniac. And… he was _here._ Ignis’ glare narrowed as he spotted the monster through the glass of the observation area he entered. Standing next to the Chancellor.

 

“My friend, do you recall the child who was stolen from this facility?”

 

Ignis paused, his heart rate picking up once more. Ardyn was going to reveal his presence to his birthfather – Ignis was positive.

 

“The one those Lucians absconded with?”

 

Hearing his voice in the flesh was even worse than the recorders. More grating. More… horrifying.

 

“Precisely. I thought you might like to see the fine young man he’s become these twenty-odd years later.”

 

_Don’t bloody do it._

 

All his life, Ignis had wondered what a conversation with his birth parents might be like. Now, he had absolutely no desire to go through with it.

  

“So, as thanks for bringing your pets to Insomnia, I’ve brought the boy to you.” The Chancellor raised his voice. “The time has come to meet your maker. Any questions for daddy dearest?”

 

Ignis stepped up to the glass. No point in hiding any longer. If he was going to face this bastard, he was going to do it with confidence and dignity.

 

“Father and son! Oh, how I love bringing families together!” Ardyn grinned at Ignis through the glass.

 

Forwards into this nightmare was his only way out of it.

 

Perhaps if he kept repeating that, it would eventually prove true.

 

* * *

 

 

When the door slid open in front of him, Ignis had his shoulders squared and his head high. Besithia had his back to him. Ardyn was nowhere to be seen.

 

Ignis’ fingers twitched around his daggers as the man turned to face him, half of his face looking in the process of decomposing.

 

“What’s the matter? Have you never seen a man turn before?” Besithia rasped, sounding not unlike someone who had been smoking for most of their life. “If those Lucians hadn’t intervened, _you_ could have turned too.”

 

Ignis arched an eyebrow upwards, trying to keep his hands from shaking. “I’m afraid I fail to see the allure.” He had never been more thankful for his accent. It set him further apart from this madman.

 

Besithia laughed – an awful, grating sound that felt like poison to the ears. “Cloned from my genes and born of my flesh and blood you may be, but you lack vision.”

 

“Yes, well, I appear to have lost my spectacles. You, on the other hand, appear to have lost the mind you once possessed.”

 

Besithia’s mind. Astrals, all these years… Ignis fought against the urge to vomit for not the first time that day.

 

Insane he might have been, but Besithia was still a genius. Ignis had always been complimented on his intellect. To think that this was why… Six…

 

“My mind has never been more clear. Now that you’ve finally come home to Niflheim, soon you will see, my son.”

 

A flame ignited within Ignis, and his hands clenched around his daggers hard. “I am not your son!” he hissed. “My name is Ignis Scientia – I am a loyal Lucian citizen and a member of King Noctis’ Crownsguard. What I am not is one of your bloody experiments any longer!”

 

Besithia stepped forwards. “No, not anymore. Now, you’re nothing but a _failure._ ”

 

“I’m heartbroken,” Ignis snapped back, knees bending slightly as the man grew closer.

 

Besithia drew even nearer. “I ought to return you whence you came. Perhaps then you might serve some useful purpose.”

 

“Keep your distance.”

 

“With your help, my ascension–”

 

“Stay. Back.”

 

“–is now all but complete.”

 

“I _will_ defend myself.”

 

“Soon, neither the King of Lucis nor the Gods themselves will be able to challenge my reign!”

 

Besithia reached a hand towards Ignis’ face, and he reacted – his dagger found its way into Besithia’s heart.

 

As much as he hated the idea of the man being his father, there was a lump in his throat as Besithia staggered back and fell over.

 

The dagger in Ignis’ hand dripped blood. Ignis could only stare blankly at the body.

 

A mock gasp came from the room’s speakers. “ _Look what you’ve done. You’ve gone homicidal – no, patricidal!_ ”

 

“Shut up…” Ignis growled.

 

“ _You lose your friends and murder your family. Now you’ve no one left!_ ” Ardyn finished his taunting with a long laugh.

 

“My family died in Lucis!” Ignis snapped.

 

The Chancellor didn’t reply.

 

Ignis’ shoulders slumped. Where to go from here? He didn’t even truly know where _here_ was.

 

“ _Vital functions decreasing. Plasmodium activity index increasing._ ”

 

Ignis snapped his head up once more as the computer’s voice droned on.

 

“ _Daemonification complete. Initiating transfer to Unit XDA-1002: Immortalis._ ”

 

Whatever that meant, Ignis really didn’t like the sound of it. Especially since the lighting in the room was turning red. An alarm stared to go off as the room shook.

 

And then part of the ceiling caved in, an Iron Giant falling into a dead heap with a human figure atop it.

 

“You always play hard to get like this?”

 

Ignis was torn between relief and confusion. “Aranea?”

 

She hopped off the carcass. “Save it, Four-eyes. We need to move.” She strolled over to look at some papers Ignis hadn’t noticed before. “So _this_ is that new model they’re working on.”

 

“What model? Immortalis?” Ignis moved over to her.

 

“Later. Let’s get out of here.”

 

…Very well, then.

 

And so he followed her, out a nearby door and into a transportation bay that was filled with daemons and security drones and… MTs.

 

Six, he’d never be able to look at those things the same way again.

 

Still, he fought alongside Aranea in order to reach the exit, which was steadily closing. Once they were close, Aranea grabbed his shoulder and shoved a map into his ches.

 

“Head there – I’ll catch up later.”

 

Ignis scowled. “You expect me to leave you here?”

 

“I said I’ll catch up.”

 

“I can assist–”

 

“Just go!”

 

Ignis wanted to object further, but he knew she was right. He was cut off from his usual weapons and abilities, and, more crucially, unfocused.

 

And so he went.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Ignis reached the campsite Aranea had marked out on the map, he was entirely _done_ with the day. It was all he could do to get a fire going – thank goodness he’d taken the time to learn that from Gladio – and slump down next to it.

 

His bangs, which were now thoroughly drenched since the rather ungraceful stop he’d preformed with the snowmobile, flopped into his face, and he laughed humorlessly at the irony. Now he truly did look just like the other clones.

 

He stared at his code, feeling appropriately _empty_. Astrals, he _hated_ this bloody thing.

 

His gaze flickered over to Ulric’s daggers, which he’d set by his feet. He’d never actually tried to get rid of it before, only cover it–

 

“Don’t tell me you think that would work.”

 

That woman truly was more stealthy than the allies and friends he was used to being around.

 

He dropped his arm. “Merely wishful hoping.”

 

She regarded him silently for a moment. “Ignis, right?”

 

He gave her a simple nod. Yes. That was who he was, regardless of his past.

 

She sauntered over, plopping down next to him by the fire. “You could at least look happy to see me.”

 

Ignis couldn’t find it within himself to be amused at her humor. “My apologies. Normally I’d be more hospitable, but I’ve had a rather difficult day.”

 

“Aw, does that mean no dinner tonight? Damn.”

 

Ignis did feel his lips twitch slightly at that. “I’m afraid I’m rather lacking in supplies on that front.”

 

A longer silence fell. Ignis wasn’t sure if he preferred it that way or not.

 

“I talked to Ravus. He’s with your buddies. Says you’ve got ’em worried sick.”

 

Ignis frowned. “Ravus is cooperating with Noct?”

 

“Last I heard, yeah.”

 

That was good. Perhaps they would both benefit.

 

Aranea leaned on her knee. “You gonna go see ’em or what?”

 

Ignis snorted. “My time here has hardly been by choice.”

 

“…So make your own choice. Get the hell out of here and go back to them.”

 

Ignis shook his head. “I’m… afraid matters have grown more complicated than that.”

 

“Sounds like excuses to me. Look, Four-eyes, if you want to do something, find a way to do it. Don’t mope around with your head up your ass.”

 

“I’m not moping, and I don’t recall asking for a lecture,” Ignis snapped. “My entire life I have wondered about my past, and now I find out that not only is my biological father the insane murderer of thousands – including my _true_ family – but that he’s not even technically my father because I was grown in a bloody vat alongside a million others for the sole purpose of destroying everything I’ve devoted my life to protect! So you’ll have to excuse me while I take a few moments to contemplate whether or not I’m even a human being!”

 

Aranea calmly waited for him to finish. “Huh. I wondered what you’d be like if you totally lost your cool.”

Ignis sighed raggedly, suddenly feeling even further exhausted than before. “You should see me when Noct refuses to eat his vegetables.”

 

She snickered. “You see? A sense of humor, anger, inner conflict, a caring disposition… Four-eyes, if that’s not human, I don’t know what is.”

 

He looked at her fully. Her type of kindness was an odd one, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “Thank you.”

 

She smirked, lounging back. “I’m going after that new model in the morning. You in?”

 

“Immortalis?”

 

She shrugged. “If that’s what they’re calling it.”

 

Ignis tugged his glove back over his code. “Yes. I’m with you.”

 

“Hm. Just be sure you’re ready.”

 

Ready. Yes, he certainly needed to be that.

 

But he wasn’t.

* * *

 

 

Sleep was evasive that night. Aranea might have had no problems completely passing out by the fire, but Ignis had far too much on his mind for a restful sleep. At least she had readily accepted what he was with no judgements, but Aranea was a rather… different soul.

 

How would Noct react to the fact that Ignis had been lying to him their entire lives? Would Gladio perceive him as a threat? Would Prompto be afraid? These were scenarios he couldn’t ignore. Ignis would happily let his secret stay hidden another twenty years, but somehow he doubted that the Chancellor would let that happen. If Ignis didn’t tell them, Ardyn would be sure to reveal it at the most damaging moment he could. Ignis couldn’t allow that. But how could he willingly destroy himself in his friends’ eyes after all they’d been through? The last thing they needed was conflict within their own group…

 

Ignis jerked awake, not realizing he’d drifted off until then. He shivered, raising his head a bit. Something about the air felt off.

 

He glanced over to find Aranea still blissfully asleep next to the fire–

 

The fire. Ignis blinked. The fire was still lit, but… not moving.

 

A frozen fire.

 

Was he truly asleep after all and dreaming? He certainly didn’t feel like it, but dreams never did feel fake when one was in them.

 

Ignis slowly climbed to his feet, grabbing Ulric’s daggers.

 

Most likely, this was the Chancellor’s doing. Ignis didn’t know how, but he did know the man possessed… abilities of some sort. He’d managed to make himself look like Gladio back in Altissia.

 

He couldn’t even trust his own bloody eyes anymore.

 

He took another glance at Aranea as he neared the mouth of the cave. Whatever this was, he would not let Ardyn’s games harm Aranea. She had no part in the man’s torment of him. She shouldn’t have been involved in this at all.

 

Apart from it being night, the word still seemed darker than it should, tinted in an odd way.

 

“What do you want?” Ignis muttered under his breath. “What are your goals? What do you gain from all this?”

 

He didn’t expect Ardyn to answer, and he wasn’t speaking loud enough for anyone to hear him anyway, but he still wondered.

 

A figure lay on the ground outside the cave. An MT – one that was still twitching and sparking on the ground.

 

Ignis approached with cautious steps. What was the game this time? To see if he could finish it off, knowing what it truly was now?

 

His grip on his weapons was tight, and then the MT changed, the sight in front of him shifting in an instant to…

 

Himself. He was staring at himself.

 

Ignis sucked in a breath.

 

It was an illusion. He knew that. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t disturbing seeing himself reaching towards him wordlessly, eyes wide in fear.

 

“You’re not real,” he whispered, closing his own eyes. If he couldn’t see, he couldn’t be deceived– 

 

The sound of metal on metal and the characteristic shriek of a dying MT forced him to look once more.

 

Noct?

 

No… Of course it wasn’t the real Noct who just ran the MT through. Yet another illusion. But the boy looked so real. His _glare_ looked so real as he pulled his sword from the MT’s body and stalked towards Ignis.

 

“ _Liar,_ ” the illusion spat at him.

 

Ignis stepped back instinctively. He refused. Illusion or not, he wouldn’t fight Noct. He was done playing into the Chancellor’s hand.

 

Noct kept advancing, but Ignis dropped his daggers. “Enough. Cease this! I am not a pawn for you to toy with! I know who I am, and my biological ties will not change that! _I am a Lucian!_ ”

 

Noctis stopped walking, his lips turning up in a smirk. “Are you?”

 

Ignis’ peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a small light reflection, and he looked down to find a set of MT’s arms instead of his own.

 

_Don’t panic. Don’t panic._

 

“Yes,” he forced out through gritted teeth, scrunching his eyes shut once more. “I’ve spent all this time wondering, but I’ve always known. I am a Crownsguard. I am a friend. _That_ is what matters, and nothing you try to stick in my head will change that. _I know who I am!_ ”

 

“…That’s great, Four-eyes. Why are you yelling it to the world and giving away our position?”

 

Ignis spun around. “Aranea?”

 

The look she gave him couldn’t have been flatter. “You expecting someone else out here?”

 

He subtly glanced around the area. No sign of… anything. Just trees, rocks, and snow.

 

“…No. No one else…”

* * *

 

 

Having trained and fought with his friends almost exclusively lately, Ignis was amazed at just how fluidly he and Aranea were able to get in sync with each other’s moves. Their styles matched so well with each other that there was barely any need for verbal clarification. It was almost _too_ easy getting into the base.

 

“You know, Four-eyes, you’re not too bad,” Aranea said as the door to the facility slowly opened. “That offer I made about you joining my crew? Consider it still there and with a higher pay offer.”

 

Ignis chuckled. “I’ll be certain to keep that in mind.” He doubted it was a true offer. She knew he would never leave his friends and duties. Still… it was flattering, and, in another life, he could see himself fitting well in her group.

 

They walked into the base in silence, their footsteps the only noise until they reached an elevator.

 

“Why are you here, Aranea?” Ignis stepped into the elevator, waiting for her to join him. “Last we met, you were considering a departure from the Empire, but now you’re actively fighting against them – that’s quite a jump, is it not?”

 

Aranea shifted her weight to one hip. “The daemons this guy created destroyed Insomnia. If we don’t take him out now… he’s liable to destroy the whole world.”

 

“Fair enough.” That was a fairly good motive for anyone. Still, he had a feeling Aranea cared for people more than she tried to let on.

 

* * *

 

 

“On your right!”

 

Ignis ducked before Aranea had even finished speaking, having spotted the threat himself an instant before her warning. He rolled under the MT’s axe strike, digging his dagger into the back of its neck. Another axe almost came down on his hand, but Ignis pulled back in time, having to leave the dagger still embedded in the MT’s circuits. The next MT died with little flourish, and Ignis quickly snapped around.

 

Only three left, one of which was heading for Aranea’s exposed side. His instinct to protect overriding the sense that he knew she could handle herself, he sent his second dagger to take the threat out.

 

Two left. Aranea was handling one, and the other… was heading straight for him.

 

Drat. Being unable to summon his weapons back to him was a serious liability.

 

Fortunately, the axe-toting MTs were on the slow side, and he was able to dodge around the strikes as he tried to reach his abandoned dagger.

 

“Four-eyes, catch!”

 

Ignis grabbed her tossed lance out of midair, whipping it around and plunging it into the MT’s chest before ripping it back out.

 

“Nice job,” Aranea commented, handing him the dagger he’d thrown back in exchange for her lance.

 

“And you,” he returned, moving to collect the other dagger.

* * *

 

 

How utterly tedious this entire place was. He’d never known how exhausting an extended amount of tension this high could be, and considering how much he worried for Noct on a daily basis, this was an extreme testament as to just how tense he truly was.

 

“Care for anything?” Ignis fished a few gil out of his pocket. If there was one saving grace in this place, it was the Ebony vending machines – a chance he wasn’t going to pass up. They’d finished off the ones he’d gotten from the other machine as their breakfast earlier.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Aranea flipped her lance around and drove the dull end into the machine, breaking the glass. “I’ll take something.”

 

Ignis cleared his throat. Well then… he wasn’t exactly going to lose sleep over the Empire not having a few coins. He replaced the gil in his pocket.

 

Aranea grabbed what he assumed was her preferred flavor and cracked open the can, taking a sip. “So.”

 

“So?” Ignis selected his personal favorite, opening it as well.

 

She leaned against the side of the vending machine. “You gonna be ready for this?”

 

Ah. A prevalent question.

 

He nodded.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yes.” He didn’t have to fake the confidence in his voice. “Besithia is the monster responsible for killing my true family in Lucis – shared blood won’t change that.”

 

A roar echoed down the corridor – one so loud that the air seemed to shake.

 

“Good.” Aranea set her drink aside. “You’re gonna need that focus.”

 

Ignis looked back at the file on the floor he’d seen when they’d first gotten to the area. “I don’t believe that’s him.”

 

“Great. Something else to deal with on the way, then.” She headed down the corridor.

 

He followed closely, stopping only to pick up another voice log.

 

Aranea paused as well, listening to Besithia’s final deep jump into full madness.

 

“ _…All that remains is to fully surrender myself to my research and become my own final test subject. I will conclude my mortal life by offering a word of thanks. Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, your assistance has proved invaluable. You have my eternal gratitude–_ ”

 

Aranea made a noise of disgust. “I really never liked that guy.”

 

Ignis frowned, shutting off the tape. “Everything that has happened, he’s played a key part each time. Why? If he’s truly on the Empire’s side, why assist us at all?”

 

Aranea was silent for a moment, not that he’d expected her to have any answers. “…Come on, let’s keep moving.”

 

* * *

 

 

The fight with Besithia’s pet was a chore, that was for certain, but he and Aranea managed to rid the world of Barbarus through combined effort and use of the spare firearms that were lying around – although firearms were more of Prompto’s expertise, Barbarus was a large enough target that Ignis had little trouble hitting it. Not hitting Aranea and madly running around the room had been the greater chore.

 

Ignis’s breath was short – as was Aranea’s – by the time the beast finally fell.

 

He still kept his obtained rifle trained on the beast as he looked it over, making sure it truly was deceased.

 

Aranea made a face at him.

 

“What?” Ignis asked.

 

“You with a gun. It’s weird. Like when people put ketchup on eggs.”

 

Ignis let out a sound of disgust, dropping the gun. His daggers were still in his pockets, so he wasn’t weaponless. “Barbarians. Worse than pineapple on pizza.”

 

Aranea’s chuckle was cut off by the room suddenly shaking and more alarms going off.

 

“ _Unit XDA-1002: Immortalis. Plasmodic miasma transfer complete. No psychic obstructions detected. All systems operational. Activating Immortalis._ ”  

 

Aranea looked at the ceiling. “Is it just me, or is that shaking coming from–”

 

“Outside!” Ignis agreed, and they both bolted back the way they came.

 

Despite there being nothing to fight on the way out, the path felt even longer as they sprinted back through the corridors.

 

Ignis had been expecting something large to fight, but he wasn’t prepared for _how_ large.

 

“Bloody hell…” he muttered as the giant mechanic… _snake_ loomed over them once they’d reached the outdoors.

 

Aranea charged directly for the snowmobile they’d left behind. Until now, he’d taken the driver’s seat, but she got there first, so he hopped on the back with the gun that was mounted there.

 

Ignis turned a steely glare on the abomination that his blood father willingly became.

 

His _father_ had chosen a path.

 

Ignis had chosen another, and it was one he’d never give up.

 

He felt no guilt as he turned the weapon on his opponent. No hesitation, no matter how many bullets he fired and how much his ears rang. The lurch of the gun and the bumps beneath the snowmobile burred together into a constant stream.

 

_Begone, daemon._

 

When the snake of metal and death finally fell, Ignis felt as though a weight had been removed from his chest. Or shoulders. Perhaps both.

 

Relief. His only feeling to his parent dying was relief.

 

He wasn’t sure what to think of that as he climbed off the snowmobile and stared at the limp train of now useless metal.

 

“You all right?” Aranea asked, her voice not unkind.

 

“Yes. This is a part of my life that I will happily turn the page on,” Ignis said softly.

 

“Then say it like you mean it. You did good.”

 

A smile pulled at his lips. “Yes, well, I doubt I would have fared so well without your assistance.” He faced her fully. “Thank you, Aranea.”

 

“No sweat.” Her stance was relaxed as she rested her hands on her hips. “You gonna head back to your friends?”

 

“Hm.” He nodded. “I need to get back before they die of malnutrition.”

 

She laughed. “Well, Gralea’s a straight shot that way, and that’s where they were headed.”

 

“Then I’d best catch up.” He glanced at the snowmobile. “I assume you have transportation of your own?”

 

Aranea gestured to the vehicle. “All yours, Four-eyes.”

 

Ignis started to head for it.

 

“Hey. Take care walking your path.”

 

He paused once again, a hand on the steering bar. It seemed so long ago that he’d said those words to her. “Thank you. I will.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

He didn’t have good luck.

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t remember running into the Chancellor. All he remembered was bidding Aranea farewell… and then he woke up inside another base. Another bloody Imperial base. Only this time, he was retrained. Trapped. Unable to break free, no matter how hard he tried.

 

Even when his wrists started to bleed from being rubbed raw, there wasn’t enough slipperiness to grant him freedom with how thick his gloves were. Even when he dislocated the thumb of his right hand and freed that arm, the contraption’s hold on his torso stayed just as strong as ever, the controls for release beyond his reach. He couldn’t even relocate his thumb on anything.

 

Eventually, he dozed off, half slumped over and half still hanging by his trapped arm. It was the most uncomfortable position to sleep in that he ever could have imagined, but exhaustion took hold all the same. The hours passed in blurred snippets of lucidity, the only true tell of the passing of time being the growing soreness of his body as it was forced to stay in its awkward orientation.

 

He jerked into a full yet hazy awareness after what he assumed was quite some while, but he didn’t know why. Had he heard something? Was Ardyn trying to keep him from being too rested?

 

Astrals, his right hand was _throbbing_ …

 

He might have heard a voice, but he wasn’t sure. He almost didn’t dare to even hope.

 

And then there was a light. A light that was boder line assault on his eyes after all the dim lighting in the room.

 

“ _Ignis!_ ”

 

Noct tore through the doors of the… _cage_ with Prompto, Gladio, and Ravus in tow. Noct all but smashed his hand onto the panel, making Ignis fall into an undignified heap on the floor.

 

His hand slipped, slick with his own blood as he tried to push himself up.

 

Noct’s hands grabbed onto his shoulders, providing a gentle support that allowed him to sit back on his knees.

 

“Iggy!” Prompto’s tone was tight with a touch of panic. “You okay?”

 

“What the hell did Ardyn do to you?” Noct looked him over, a rage beneath his eyes when he spotted Ignis’ wrists.

 

“Nothing that can’t be mended with time… and perhaps a bit of help. Gladio, if you wouldn’t mind?” He held his hand up, looking away and bringing his sleeve up to bite.

 

Gladio snorted. “I’d say I can’t believe you did that, but it’s you, so I’m not actually surprised.”

 

A moment later and Ignis found himself screaming into the fabric.

 

Astrals, it hurt, but it was worth it for the relief that came soon after.

 

“You good?” Gladio asked, helping him the rest of the way to his feet.

 

“Yes, thank you. It’s bloody good to see all of you.” He gave Prompto and Noct reassuring looks before meeting Ravus’ gaze and giving him a nod.

 

Ravus returned the gesture. “Best we move on now. There’s no telling what Ardyn has left in store for us, and you lot need your weapons back.”

 

“You’ve lost access to yours as well?” Ignis flexed his hand gingerly as he turned to Noct.

 

“Yeah. Pretty much ready to be done with that.”

 

“Then let us be off.” Ravus was already heading for the door. “I know where the device is.”

 

* * *

 

 

“This thing?” Noct jogged up to the strange, sealed-off box-room that sat in the center of the larger room they were in. “Door’s locked.”

 

“Soooo, anybody got a key?” Prompto shot Ravus a hopeful look.

 

The former High Commander shook his head. “Any clearance I had has no doubt been revoked.”

 

Dread crept up Ignis’ skin in a slow wave as he spotted the panel on the door. He had hoped to have more time to work over what he wanted to say to them, but he supposed this was better than Ardyn dropping the information instead.

 

“I can get us in.”

 

He felt their eyes on him as he slowly stepped up to the panel, tugging off the glove on his right hand gently and holding his code up to the scanner.

 

The door opened.

 

Off to his left, Ignis could see Noct’s brow pinched in puzzlement, but Ravus was the first to speak.

 

“ _You_ are a _Magitek trooper?_ ”

 

“What? No, that’s ridiculous,” Noct protested.

 

“No. I am not,” Ignis said firmly. “But I was intended to be. A Lucian task force of some sort found me as an infant and brought me to Insomnia from the lab in which I was… created.”

 

“ _Created?_ ” Gladio demanded incredulously.

 

“Magitek troopers are made from clones.” Ravus’ tone was simple, as though that was a common fact that everyone knew.

 

“Clones?” Prompto was sheet white. “You mean… the things we’ve been killing this whole time are…”

 

“Iggy…” Noct stepped closer to him. “Why didn’t you say something?”

 

“I didn’t know. Your father had all of my early records sealed, even from me.” Ignis started to replace his glove. “Until recently, I only knew I was originally from here…”

 

Noct’s hand dropped over his code, keeping him from covering it again. “Whatever. Who cares where you’re from?”

 

Ravus scoffed. “Regardless of your origins, I doubt there are many more loyal to Lucis than you.”

 

“Yeah, what he said!” Prompto chirped.

 

Noct smiled at him, letting go of his hand and backing towards the room. “We’re done here. C’mon, crown citizen.”

 

Gladio clapped Ignis on the back as he followed suit. “You’re one of us, right?”

 

Ignis stared blankly at them. His entire life he’d dreaded the thought of them finding out, and now they’d dismissed his origins without a second thought.

 

He was a fool, letting fear blind him as it had. He knew them, and they him. That would never change. They would never turn on each other, not even with all of Ardyn’s tricks. Their bond was stronger than ever.

 

A full smile spread across his face, and he wiped the corner of his eye, feeling a bit of moisture there.

 

If it had been Ardyn’s plan to weaken him, he’d failed. Ignis felt stronger than ever. Refreshed.

 

He was ready to face whatever was to come.

 

Insomnia might have been gone for the moment, but he still had part of his home left.

 


End file.
